


Undercover Lover

by nextgeneration



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Android Dehumanization (Detroit: Become Human), Blow Jobs, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Cheating, Cuckolding, Dissociation, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Gay Sex, Guilt, Large Cock, Leather, M/M, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Painful Sex, Rimming, Sexual Experimentation, Top Hank Anderson, Undercover As Prostitute, Undercover Missions, Voyeurism, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nextgeneration/pseuds/nextgeneration
Summary: Connor is a curious creature by nature, willing and eager to use his body to accomplish his mission. Hank does not match his partner's enthusiasm.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor, Zlatko Andronikov/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Undercover Lover

“ _Fuck_ no!” Hank’s balled fists meet Captain Fowler’s desk, and the impact of bone on wood echoes throughout the otherwise quiet office. “You are _not_ gonna make him do that!” Anxious sweat runs down the older man’s temples, and he turns around in his seat. Connor stands just behind the lieutenant with his thin, freckled hands clasped behind his back. He seems entirely unphased, shifting his weight to his other foot and exhaling.

“It’s alright, Lieutenant,” Connor begins, peering down into his partner’s rage-filled eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying out the mission.” The shorter man speaks cooly, and a playful smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Sex is a commonly used tactic in undercover stings.” He bites his lip and cocks his head, quietly teasing his older counterpart. “You’d know better than anyone that I’m fully equipped and efficient.”

Hank’s nostrils flare, and his heart rate picks up, pulse drumming away angrily in his ears. The lieutenant deliberately ignores Connor’s less than subtle innuendo. “You’re going to get yourself _killed_ , Connor!” Hank insists, venting his frustration through gapped teeth. The android purses his lips in response, mildly amused by his partner’s undiluted emotion. _It’s not like he wouldn’t come back, after all._ “It’s suicide to willingly enter some… some _psycho’s_ house of mechanical horrors!”

Hank was, of course, referring to Zlatko Andronikov, a Russian-American felon who was wanted for a myriad of violent crimes. He was known to torture, mutilate, and disassemble deviant androids, only to put them back together again with experimental pieces. The results of his work were beyond horrific. Dealing with him wasn’t going to be easy, and it wasn’t going to be pleasant, either. Concern bubbles up in Hank’s chest and gnaws behind his ribcage, but neither Connor nor Jeffrey seem to care.

The lieutenant faces forward again, pleading silently with Captain Fowler. His superior remains calm, his casual demeanor unaffected by Hank’s adverse reaction, and leans back in his chair. “It’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, Hank,” The other man reminds him, tipping his head to gesture at Connor. “He _is_ a pretty advanced prototype.” The android beams proudly, thankful for Fowler’s agreement.

Connor draws a breath before continuing. “He’s been known to modify the sexual features of android hostages,” The thinner man mentions, steepling his fingers in front of his body. “If you were to pose as a desperate bachelor looking to improve his android, perhaps seeking to heighten its promiscuity… or, perhaps, hoping to reprogram it to serve purely as a sex object…” Connor trails off, blinking coyly in Hank’s direction.

Hank’s cheeks burn. _That stupid little fucker_ knows _what he’s doing._

“No. Fuckin’. Way.” The older man stands his ground, glaring furious holes into the side of Connor’s head. Hank isn’t an idiot. He can tell that he’s losing this argument by a landslide. Jeffrey crosses his arms and clears his throat, visibly unimpressed by Hank’s bad attitude. Connor smiles with satisfaction as his partner clenches his fists beneath the table.

Subtlety had never been his forté.

“Lieutenant, this is simply the best way to go about things,” The android lies, sighing with mock impatience. He doesn’t let on that he’d preconstructed six other possibilities that wouldn’t involve his… _licentiousness._ Connor’s curiosity was, admittedly, getting the best of him. He’d only been intimate with Hank before, and Hank had slept with _loads_ of different people in his prime. It didn’t feel fair. If humans were allowed to have adventurous, risky sexual experiences during their youths, then why couldn’t he?

“Fine, you stupid, stubborn _cocksucker_ ,” Hank finally relents, scowling down into his lap. The lieutenant’s age lines deepen as he frowns, and the sun damaged skin around his eyes crinkles. _If you can’t beat them, join them_ , as they say. The older man sinks down into his chair, accepting his defeat.

“Okay, then. Where do we start?”

It was pouring rain when Hank first pounded on Zlatko’s front door. The lieutenant hunches over and scowls, and his fingers twist tightly around the leash in his hand. The thick leather rope trails back to his partner in crime, Connor, who stands with immaculate posture a few feet away. 

One of Sumo’s black collars is fastened around the android’s neck, and he wears only a leather studded harness across his chest. To the surprise of no one, it had once been Hanks, and it gave the older man great joy to pull the buckles that sat on Connor’s shoulders tight. A similarly styled leather jockstrap sits high on the android’s hip bones, cradling his most delicate parts. The garment can hardly contain him, and his member holds the waistband away from his body. A thin trail of brown hair peeks out from behind it.

Hank is dressed casually, but also a bit older than his true age, and he sports a rather shameful display of vertical stripes. His silver hair is pulled away from his face and into a small bun. The older man cracks his knuckles absentmindedly and avoids looking in his partner’s direction, hoping to avoid becoming needlessly aroused. He’d already been sucked off _once_ tonight, after all.

The lieutenant had managed to pop a boner while sorting through his old clothes, looking for something that fit the “android hooker” image Connor was trying to portray. When his partner walked in on Hank reclined on his bed, cock in hand… well, he had been more than willing to oblige. Opening up that long-forgotten box, taking in the delightful smell of well-worn leather… it made him yearn for his days of endless cruising and chemsex parties. _Jesus Christ, Hank. Stop thinking about it._ He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath through his nose.

“So I’m Vasyl, and you’re…” Connor speaks up from behind, his hands resting lamely at his sides. As always, he looks painfully awkward, wildly unprepared, and slightly detached from his own body. Bold, whorish seduction was clearly not in his nature.

“Richard,” Hank grumbles, pursing his lips behind his freshly trimmed mustache. He averts his gaze, trying to maintain his focus. “Don’t forget it.” Hearing the android’s voice was more than a little distracting. When Connor spoke in that thick Russian accent with that honey-sweet voice… _fuck._ Hank adjusts himself, pulling the body of his jacket down and shifting his weight.

“Who is it?”

Hank nearly jumps out of his skin when a voice booms out from just past the door. The human’s pulse quickens, and his fingers tremble. The lieutenant swallows hard before clearing his throat. _Christ, this would’ve been easier with some booze._

“My friend referred me here to do business with you,” Hank replies carefully, shoving his reading glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “I’ve got an android for upgrade.” The older man clutches the leash tightly in his fist, and his fingernails dig into his palm.

At first, the house is eerily silent, and nothing but the gentle patter of falling rain can be heard. Hank glances over in Connor’s direction, worried that their cover has already been blown.

After a few dreadfully long seconds pass, though, Zlatko pulls the door open, peering out at the two men. The Russian’s eyes widen when his gaze falls on Connor’s broad, hairless chest. He looks the thinner man up and down, examining the android’s scant attire with a smirk. “I see,” The stout man grumbles, green eyes feasting greedily on Connor’s slender body. “What’s it named?”

Hank’s brow furrows, and he shifts his weight, a sudden wave of possessiveness crashing over him. “Vasyl,” He recites in terribly accented Russian, tugging at Connor’s leash slightly. The android stumbles forward, LED blinking yellow, and he grasps his hands over his crotch protectively. The decades-old leather holds tight against Connor’s body, and so does Hank, the older man placing a firm arm around the shorter man’s waist. He can only hope that it provides some comfort. “I’m planning on pimping him and a few others out, but I need to make sure your work is quality first.”

“Of course my work is quality,” Zlatko scoffs, huffing indignantly through his nose at Hank’s snub. “How much are you planning to pay me?”

“Thousand.”

“That’s nowhere near enough.”

“Two.”

“Higher.”

Hank feels panic rising in his chest as their plan comes to fruition. He knows what’s coming, and he doesn’t like it. The older man bites his tongue. “Two thousand and a few hours to break him in.”

The lieutenant’s palms drip with sweat as he watches the Russian man stroke his prickly, unkempt stubble. Zlatko’s beady, surly eyes roam over Connor’s pale body, and he licks his lips, shifting his weight. _That bastard looks_ hungry _for him. Ugh._ Hank clenches his jaw and tries desperately to hide his brimming disgust.

Zlatko decides to consider the offer. “Right.” The shorter man leans back against a pillar and grins, exposing a mouth full of coffee stained teeth. “Come on in, then.”

Hank exhales a long-held breath and steps inside, gripping Connor’s leash with white knuckles. The android follows him clumsily, still cupping his crotch in both hands. _Poor kid._ He has no idea what he’s in for. Hank’s stomach churns at the thought.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Zlatko Andronikov,” The man introduces himself, holding out an open palm. The skin on his fingers is stained blue, and old dirt is trapped beneath his fingernails.

Hank shakes it reluctantly, clearing his throat and tugging at the bottom of his shirt. “Rich,” He replies quietly, resting his back against a wall and refusing to meet Zlatko’s eyes. The lieutenant digs through all of the pockets in his cargo pants before finding the wad of cash, pawing through it with shaky hands.

The taller man holds the money out to Zlatko before taking a tentative glance at Connor. His partner’s skin glitters with rain water, and his dark brown hair lies flat against his head. He’s such a fuckin’ catch. _Hank’s_ fuckin’ catch. Hank’s poor, sweet, innocent catch. The older man’s heart drops, and his sinuses begin to sting. He blinks a few times before speaking. “Go on, go with the nice man. He’ll take care of you.” Hank’s voice threatens to waver, and he coughs into his arm to cover it.

Connor nods his head, looking over at the lieutenant’s sorry state. “All right, Rich,” he says quietly, eyes flicking up in Zlatko’s direction. The android bites his lip as he circles Zlatko, dragging a long, thin finger up the Russian man’s arm. _Damn._ Connor _is_ capable of acting like a cock-hungry harlot. For something that’s just an act, though, it seems a little too… real. It’s just in his programming, Hank assures himself, but watching the display still causes a dull ache to grow in his chest. _Ouch._

Hank hates this. He hates it more than he’s hated _anything_ before.

Connor grips Zlatko’s wrist and leads him to the couch. It’s cloth, and red, and its cushions are covered in stains. Its dinginess is clearly visible, even under the dim lighting of the crackling fireplace. The Russian man sits back in the pillows with a stupid grin, and he’s seemingly mesmerized by the android’s figure.

“You’re sure you haven’t used it already?” Zlatko chuckles to Hank, running his dirty fingers in broad strokes over Connor’s abdomen. “It seems to be a hot seller in the making.” The android guides Zlatko’s hands lower on his hips and grins at the comment. _Huh._ The attention feels nice, and so do the other’s unfamiliar hands. Zlatko’s fingertips dig into Connor’s haunches eagerly.

Hank lowers himself to the floor in the next room, taking refuge behind a taxidermied emu. He feels absolutely, positively cucked. And by a repulsive, jobless programmer, no less. _Ugh._ “Only its mouth,” Hank finally replies, dragging his finger along a seam in the dusty floorboards. His words are lies -- he and Connor have gone _much_ further -- but it doesn’t matter much now, anyway. A painful lump rises in his throat.

The thinner man feels Zlatko’s hands come to rest on his hips, pulling him down to grind against his body. Even through the fabric, Connor can tell his cock is huge… at least in comparison to Hank’s.

“Alright, Vasyl, make yourself useful,” Zlatko mutters, patting the android’s rear slightly. Connor jolts at the sudden touch. “Use that pretty little tongue on me.”

Hank can’t stand it anymore. He pushes himself up from the ground and grumbles a string of cuss words, wiping his perspiring hands off on his shirt. The lieutenant is hot, and sweaty, and _angry,_ and he wants to rip that fat motherfucker’s throat out with every fiber of his being. Hearing Connor be felt up by some other guy gets under his skin. _Waaaaay_ under. Hank tramps down the stairs, glowering and breathing heavily. _He’s here to collect evidence, not listen to his android boyfriend be fucked for pay by some skeezy, psychotic fat-ass._

Connor envelops Zlatko’s cock in his warm, lubricated mouth, lapping along his length greedily. It’s more than a mouthful, and the larger man bottoms out quickly, cockhead coming to rest in the back of Connor’s throat. Zlatko stares down at the android, seeming pleased, and bucks up gently, filthy fingers running through Connor’s wet hair. “You’ve got some natural talent, boy,” He snorts, balling his fists as the android’s head bobs. “And you must be foreign, as well. I haven’t seen any of you around before.”

It takes all of Connor’s strength to not prattle on about how he's _“a prototype”_ and _“designed to be the perfect partner for even the most skilled of officers.”_ The android pushes his head all of the way down, and the other’s member fills his throat, functionally disabling his ability to speak. Zlatko moans, and Connor whimpers around his cock quietly.

“For fuck’s sake,” Hank hisses as he hears Zlatko’s voice. “You don’t need to make him bust his nut, Jesus Christ!” The older man complains to no one but himself and scrounges around in a heap of spare parts. His hands draw still when he uncovers a regrettably alive android. The thing is coated in thirium and entirely limbless, writhing in agony. It groans up in response to the sudden jostling, and its dark eyes aimlessly wander the room. _Shit._

Connor pulls off of Zlatko, his lips making a noisy pop. “Come on, _papochka_ ,” The android teases, drool coating his tongue as he stares up into the strange man’s eyes. “Put me in my place. I _know_ you want to.” Connor lets his mouth hang open, and bluish lubricant drips down his chin. _This was kinda fun._ He drags his tongue over the Russian man’s length, delighting in its unfamiliar largeness.

“Up, then, darling,” Zlatko demands, his cock twitching violently against Connor’s cheek. It was only getting harder as time went on. “Let me see that tight little hole of yours.”

Connor stands obediently and bends at the waist, spreading his legs and resting his hands on the coffee table. Zlatko grumbles a few halfhearted words of approval before leaning forward and dragging his thick, wet tongue over Connor’s asshole. The feeling catches him by surprise, and the android moans aloud, bowing his back. Connor’s length aches, and his body is sore with need. _“Yes,”_ He murmurs quietly, biting his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Let’s take this off,” Zlatko growls, pulling at Connor’s jockstrap and snapping it back. The android jumps slightly, and a timid groan escapes from his mouth. The Russian’s fingers tug the garment down over Connor’s thighs, and the thinner man’s thick, sensitive phallus springs free, coming to rest against his taut stomach.

“ _Please,_ I need your cock in me,” Connor hisses in earnest, gripping the edge of the coffee table. The newness of the experience is arousing, as is the knowledge that Hank is nearby and listening. He pushes back into Zlatko’s face as the larger man’s tongue probes him again. The android can feel the scruff of the criminal’s beard between his cheeks. It’s more scratchy than Hank’s, but it still feels heavenly against his skin.

Hank can hear the breathy moans of his partner from the basement, and his erection remains permanently conflicted. Before him sits a heap of groaning, tortured, miserable androids, but his ears can only focus on Connor’s voice. His boy’s lusty, moany, whining voice, _begging_ for another man’s cock. Hank’s dick twitches back to life, much to his embarrassment, and he stares into the mechanical carnage at his feet. _This is not a good association for his mind to be making._

Zlatko moans happily into Connor’s ass, and the android’s voice trembles, already teetering on the edge of orgasm. He tries to pull away, his cock dripping with lubricant, but the Russian keeps a tight grip on his hips, holding Connor stationary as he presses forward. The android whimpers through clenched teeth, and synthetic precum pools between his feet.

Hank finds a desolate corner and tries to drown out the sounds of agony coming from the basement’s numerous cages. The lieutenant tries to focus his attention solely on the breathy moans of his partner, no matter how difficult, and imagines Connor’s beautiful face as sounds of carnal pleasure escape from his throat. The older man unbuckles his belt and pulls at his zipper, his left hand fishing out his throbbing erection. _God fucking damn it. God fucking-_ fuck. Hank snorts at the absurdity of it all and shakes his head, red in the face and burning up inside. He’s jealous and _furious_ and unbelievably horny all at once, and he pauses when he hears shuffling on the floor above him. A particularly high-pitched squeak escapes from Connor, and Hank begins stroking himself vigorously, pressing his forehead into the cold concrete wall.

Connor whines as Zlatko pins him against the couch, and the Russian man presses his thick, fat, seven inch girth in. Hank fit like a glove inside of Connor, but Zlatko didn’t. His cock doesn’t slide into the android, and instead pushes against his hole before painfully creeping deeper. Even Connor’s self-lubrication program wasn’t prepared for the sheer volume of it. The thinner man shifts slightly as Zlatko grunts into his back, settling down and thrusting.

“Oh, you do enjoy my cock, don’t you, _myshka?”_ Zlatko gloats above the android, his hand still holding Connor’s wrists flat against the arm of the couch. “You’re lucky I didn’t take a hit before this. I wouldn’t be _nearly_ as gentle if I had some ice in me.”

Hank thrusts into his own hands, biting his lip and breathing heavily. The rough calluses on his palms felt six hundred _thousand_ times less pleasurable than Connor’s hole. _Mmmhh. Connor’s tight, sweet hole._ It was probably being destroyed. Ripped apart from the inside out. The stretching, the pain, and the unbelievable fullness… it was all something Hank knew well. But Connor, oh, _Connor,_ his sweet baby boy… he’d only had one cock up his ass before, and it was Hank’s. Hank was decently endowed, sure, but it wasn’t anything special. _Oh, Jesus._ He knew Connor was getting something better. Something _miles_ better.

Ejaculate pulses out of Connor’s cock as Zlatko settles flush against his hips. The android’s systems are fried, and he cries out, faux semen sputtering out from his length and rolling down the arm of the sofa. “I’m massive, aren’t I?” Zlatko hisses proudly, pulling back. Connor’s hole keeps a tight grip on him, and the thinner man whines loudly, the unbearable pain of overstimulation tearing through his quaking body. “I might just pull you inside out, dear.”

Connor’s eyes widen, and he shivers violently, a garbled cry rising to his lips. “I don’t…” The android grimaces as Zlatko pushes forward again with more force. He digs his nails into the couch’s coarse fabric, shutting his eyes tightly and crying out.

“It doesn’t matter what you want, whore, you’re a _machine_.” Zlatko clutches Connor’s hair and pulls his head back, drawing a pained gasp from the smaller man’s mouth. “I’m going to have to deprogram some deviancy, I see.” The Russian grips Connor’s hips, pulling him further onto his length. Connor’s hole stings, and his insides _burn_.

Hank finally comes into his hand, groaning more loudly than he would’ve liked as he finishes to the sound of his partner’s cries. He rides through the orgasm, twitching and thrusting and dripping hot cum onto the concrete floor below him. Thick ropes of semen drool down between his fingers, and he licks his lips, sighing with satisfaction. _God, Hank is not into being cucked. Not even a little._

His cock, however, begs to differ. Hank flicks the cum from his hand onto the floor and kicks some loose dust and debris over it, absolutely disgusted with himself. _Control your urges._

Connor chokes out a howl as Zlatko’s cock slides into him, and he can feel the heavier man sweating profusely onto his back. He squeezes a hand around the android’s ass, digging his fingernails into the other’s cyberskin. “I’m going to fill you up, darling,” The human growls, thrusting deeper. Connor couldn’t reply if he’d wanted to, and all that escapes him is an incoherent gurgle. The thinner man buries his face in the arm of the couch, gritting his teeth and trying to breathe. Connor finally feels the Russian falter, and he whines loudly as his insides are painted with the strange man’s seed. Zlatko pulls back, and Connor’s body aches, toes curling as an awful sting consumes his core.

Hank can hear the undeniable sounds of the suspect’s orgasm, and he shudders, trying desperately not to think of the context. He flicks through the photos on his phone, and a nagging worry tugs at his mind. They’d gotten a landslide of evidence, but at what cost? The lieutenant hears Connor’s whine, his voice loud and scared, and he’s brought back to reality. Hank stumbles up the stairs, terrified of what he might find.

“Detroit Police!” An officer’s voice rings out. _Thank_ God _they’re here._ Heavy footsteps pound against the old wooden floorboards. “You’re under arrest for assault, kidnapping, and first degree murder…” The lieutenant emerges from the basement, trying to make sense of the chaotic scene before him.

Zlatko is in handcuffs, desperately pleading his innocence, and Connor is curled up on the couch, clearly in pain. Hank pushes through the swarm of policemen, staggering to Connor’s side. His heart practically drums out of his chest when he sees his partner’s eyes. He places a tentative hand on Connor’s waist, and he flinches.

“ _Shit,_ kid, are you okay?” Hank worries aloud. Connor mumbles something inaudible in response, and his eyelids flutter shut. The human pushes the android’s hair away from his face, and his heart aches as a puff of air leaves his partner’s lips.

“ _Hurts_ ,” Connor groans, chest caving as he shifts positions. He’s in shock, or something similar, Hank figures. He wouldn’t be surprised. Connor was inexperienced in every sense, and he clearly hadn’t been prepared for something so… brutal.

“You’re gonna be okay, Connor,” Hank soothes, biting his lip and rubbing his thumb across the android’s temple. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Connor was repaired physically the day after the bust, but mentally, he still wasn’t all there. While the mission had been successful, Hank’s partner didn’t seem all that satisfied with the outcome. He spent most of his week’s vacation reclining on the couch, in front of the television, with his fingers buried in Sumo’s fur. Connor’s anxiety seemed to spike when Hank asked him how he was doing.

“I’m alright,” Connor insists flatly, shuffling his feet beneath Hank’s weighted blanket. “You can stop asking, you know.”

“I’m just worried about you, that’s all,” Hank presses on, drumming his fingers against the arm of the couch. “You’re not acting like yourself.” The human glances down at the android, who pulls the blanket up over his head. “Hey now, come on,” Hank scolds, lifting the edge of the blanket between his fingers and peering beneath.

“Are you mad at me?” Connor asks sincerely, still withdrawn and hidden. Hank’s heart cracks in two, and he sighs, shifting his weight. The TV plays quietly, and the weatherperson’s voice is barely audible.

“I’m not mad at you, Con,” Hank promises, rubbing the thinner man’s shoulder. “I’m really not.”

“But you didn’t want me to do it,” The android mumbles, tipping his head to look up at his partner. “And I did it anyway. And I got hurt, which is just what you said would happen.” Connor’s eyes are sad, and he looks incredibly guilty.

“It’s _okay,_ hon,” Hank replies, nudging at Connor’s head with his knee. “Shit happens. People make mistakes. I’m not gonna hold that against you.” Hank pets the android’s head, rubbing his fingers into his scalp. “I’ve done worse, I promise.”

“There’s no way,” Connor grumbles in disbelief, retreating back under the blanket.

Hank pauses, considering what he is about to admit. “I…” His train of thought is punctuated by an uncomfortable laugh. “I fucked Perkins’ boyfriend back in college.” The older man purses his lips. Shame is plainly evident in his voice. “Wrecked the proverbial home, you could say. Boy, was that a mess.” He clears his throat awkwardly, and Connor stares up at him with an amused smile.

“ _Really_?” The android asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, really,” Hank replies, clicking his tongue. “Nobody’s perfect. Everyone makes dumb fuckin’ decisions sometimes. Even me,” He says, licking his lips. “Well, _especially_ me.” He pauses, grooming Connor’s hair, his neatly trimmed fingernails brushing through a sea of little snarls. The two men sit in silence, listening to the ambiance of the television.

Finally, Connor pushes himself up, wrapping his arms around Hank’s body. The human smiles, relieved at the turn in emotion, and strokes Connor’s arm absentmindedly. Hank plants a kiss on the android’s forehead, pulling his partner close and basking in his warmth.

“Thanks for tolerating me, Hank,” Connor mumbles into Hank’s chest. The human chuckles lightly at the android’s words and presses his nose into his partner’s hair.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> The bulk of this story was written back in 2018, so it isn't as good as most of my content, no matter how much I've revised it. Didn't want to leave it to die in my drafts, though, so I figured I'd post it. Hope you enjoyed regardless!
> 
> Give my Twitter (https://twitter.com/cinnabubble) a visit, if you'd like -- I upload drawings every now and again and post every time I come out with a new writing.


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